


Transference

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine’s relationship is complicated; other people (and objects) are much more simple.</p>
<p>Transference is the phenomenon of unconsciously redirecting feelings about one person or object to another.</p>
<p>set before through soon after 4x17 ("Guilty Pleasures"), no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transference

Nights are the worst time of day, Kurt thinks. Days are hard, too, filled with catty classmates and overly intense professors he needs to prove himself to, and evenings can be good or bad, depending on the drama of the moment for Rachel and Santana, but nights are always the most difficult for him. When it’s dark and quiet, when Rachel’s finished with her seemingly endless scales and Santana’s enjoying the peaceful sleep of the wicked, Kurt goes into his room, pulls the curtain, slides into his big, cold bed, and is left alone with his thoughts.

The city spins on around him, the whole huge world, and he can’t help but be aware that he’s alone in it. All alone, trying with only his talent and determination to blaze a path toward an uncertain future. He’s an island. No, he’s not even as grounded as an island; he’s a solitary boat struggling to find its way and buffeted by the uncaring winds on the cold sea.

He can almost feel himself swaying with the waves, no matter that he’s lying on his stomach on his bed.

“I hate Ambien. It makes me think the stupidest things but _doesn’t actually make me sleep_ ,” he mutters into his hand where it’s propping up his head and opens up a new browser window on his laptop. Maybe some YouTube will help. Cute cat videos will soothe him until he can finally doze off; they’re all of the fun of a pet with none of the annoying fur to get off of his clothes.

He watches a few, grinning at the tiny kitten in the shoe box, no matter that it’s got to be the twentieth time he’s seen her faceplant into the Manolos, and shifts around so that he can pull the covers higher up his back. It’s chilly in his room because of the old windows and the distinct lack of insulation in the walls, and he’s wishing not for the first time that he’d accepted the hot water bottle Carole had thrust toward him on their last minute pre-New York shopping trip, no matter that it had been shaped like a deranged rooster. She’d been so certain that it was French Country and not just Everywhere Tacky.

It would have kept his feet warm, at least. And it would have kept him company, too, on these long, empty, Ambien-filled nights when all he can think about is what he doesn’t have, what he still has left to do, how much space there is between him and everything he wants.

There is _so_ much he wants. There’s so much he doesn’t have, not yet. Some of them not anymore.

Kurt leans his head back on his hand and clicks over to his bookmarked favorites. He’s going for the bunny sleeping with the puppy, but his cursor hovers instead over that one tempting commercial, not playing it. It’s stupid. It’s just a pillow. It’s not even well-dressed. It looks like a prop from _Dexter_ , part of a dismembered body. Why would he want to sleep with it?

And yet... and yet when he closes his eyes and lets himself, all he can think about is how nice it was to lean his head on Blaine’s chest, right in that perfect dip of his shoulder. And it _was_ absolutely perfect. He thinks about how safe it felt to be held. He thinks about how it loosened the knots in his stomach, his neck, and his heart. He thinks about how connected he felt, how cared for, how not alone.

He misses it so _much_.

Kurt opens his eyes and blinks the room back into focus. He doesn’t want that with Blaine. No. He doesn’t want that with anyone. He doesn’t want another person to be what makes him feel good. As much as he likes people, his friends, Adam, he doesn’t want to have to depend on them so much for his own happiness. He can do this alone. He can be that solitary little boat. He’s good at that.

His computer screen stares back at him, his cursor still over that video.

He does really miss the feeling of being held, though, and a man’s chest is very comfortable to fall asleep on...

His jaw setting with determination, Kurt clicks over to the pillow’s web site. _This_ is what being an independent adult means, he thinks; he takes care of his own needs and doesn’t lean - figuratively or metaphorically - on other people to make him feel happy.

Just people-shaped pillows.

***

Blaine keeps his head held high as he walks toward the cafeteria. He makes sure he has the right swing in his step and a little smile on his face, because there’s no reason not to. The sun is shining, and he just got an A- on his math quiz. French bread pizza is on the menu for lunch. There’s no reason for him to be sad, because it’s just a day. It’s just another day.

So what if it’s the second anniversary of his first kiss with Kurt? What does that mean, really? It’s just another day. A date. A box on the calendar. It’s a thing that happened a long time ago now. And it was a good thing, a beautiful moment. It had been the start of something wonderful for them. He shouldn’t be sad about it.

Blaine turns the corner and can’t help the way his heart falls, though, when he sees the empty space beside the trophy case, because his memory supplies the countless times last year Kurt had waited for him just there before lunch, looking perfectly handsome in one amazing outfit after another, his gorgeous eyes lighting up the second he saw Blaine.

Kurt’s eyes don’t light up like that anymore. Even if he’d been here, Blaine knows, he wouldn’t look so happy. He might smile at Blaine, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be full of love. It wouldn’t be full of joy and admiration. At best, it would just be a smile, a smile that to Blaine feels like a slap in the face even though he’d be grateful to have it at all after everything he did to mess things up between them.

They’re still so messed up. Kurt’s still so distant, out of reach even when they talk. It’s better, but it’s nothing like it once was, and the knowledge of how he failed Kurt, he failed _them_ and everything they were supposed to be, sits heavily on his chest when he thinks about it. He tries not to think about it.

Blaine’s steps slow, and he wonders if he should just head to the library instead of having lunch. He’s really not that hungry. And he’s got that history assignment he could get a head start on...

He jumps as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and propels him down the hallway.

“Blaine!” Sam says, his smile as big as ever. He has a face made to smile, a wide, soft mouth perfect for it. “Just the man I was looking for. Am I happy to see _you_!”

“I don’t know. Are you?” Blaine asks, not quite sure how rhetorical that statement is. His pulse thunders from more than the surprise of the contact, and he looks away from Sam’s lips and up to his shining eyes, so happily locked on Blaine’s. Sam seems not just happy but thrilled, actually. He doesn’t look like he’s holding anything back; Blaine’s not sure Sam even knows how.

“I am.” Sam curves his arm around Blaine’s shoulders, warming him from head to toe. It makes his chest ease to be hugged, to be touched so casually, to be wrapped up in a strong arm by someone taller than he is. He’s missed it. And it’s Sam, of course, which makes it extra wonderful, even if Blaine knows it’s stupid for him to feel that way. “And do you know why?”

Blaine shakes his head.

Sam leans in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because it’s french bread pizza day. And nobody I know appreciates the beauty of a french bread pizza like you.”

His heart leaping in his throat at Sam’s proximity, Blaine has to laugh. “It’s like art,” he replies. “The perfect ratio of sauce and cheese on a crisp and yet substantial crust.”

Sam squeezes him in approval and drops his arm. “Don’t forget the pepperoni.”

“Trust me. I could never forget the pepperoni,” Blaine tells him quite honestly, and the bright burst of Sam’s laughter carries them both into the cafeteria.

“And _that_ is why we were made to be friends,” Sam tells him. “Let’s do this.”

***

“She’s really good,” Adam says from his seat beside Kurt on the low retaining wall in the chilly NYADA courtyard.

They’re surrounded by students ignoring their lunches. It’s just after noon, the time for eating disorders and apparently a cappella blood feuds to come to the fore. Two upperclassmen are going at it in the center of the space, a man and a woman, doing some sort of cross between a freestyle rap battle and a diva off, each one tossing out a few lines from a song at each other as they snarl back and forth in perfect pitch.

They seem to be fighting about love gone wrong, and the lyrics have been pulled so far from everywhere between Andrew Lloyd Webber and Pink Floyd.

Kurt crosses his legs and crunches on another baby carrot, his eyes locked on the singers. He’s absolutely riveted. “I knew there would be drama here, but I assumed most of it would be in the classroom or on the stage.”

“Rachel would say that true performers can’t be contained,” Adam says. He takes a carrot when Kurt offers him the little tupperware container. “Thank you.”

“Yes, but that’s only because she thinks it excuses her doing whatever she wants whenever she wants,” Kurt replies.

Adam inclines his head. “You may have a point.”

The woman puts her hand on her hip and sings, “Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?”

“Ouch,” Adam says with a wince.

“Wow,” Kurt says, leaning back in surprise. “That’s unexpected. And at least a little bit sexist.”

“I don’t know if she gets or loses points for Disney.”

“I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far. I can’t go back to where I used to be,” the man sings back.

“ _Aladdin_? Okay, I seriously need my camera.” Kurt digs in his coat pocket and pulls out his phone, flicking it over to the video function. “Santana will lose her mind when she sees this.”

The man leaps up onto a hastily abandoned bench and flings his arms wide to sing out his next line, bold and unashamed.

Kurt laughs softly and thinks to himself that Blaine would fit right in here. He will next year, if he gets in. _When_ he gets in, Kurt corrects himself, because of course Blaine will. He’s so talented, so charming, so perfectly appealing that he’ll be at the top of their list.

He should send Blaine the clip, too, so that he can see how ridiculous it is. He’ll _love_ it. It’s like every minute of the day here is Glee Club.

Adam leans away from Kurt to track the performers as they move through the crowd, and for a second Kurt thinks of Blaine being there beside him instead of Adam. He thinks of Blaine being out in the middle of the courtyard, commanding the space as he sings to someone else. He thinks of Blaine singing to _him_ , all joy and love and soulful eyes, and his heart twists in his chest as the memory, at the dream, at how wonderful and how horrifying it feels to think of his heart being so exposed again for all to see. And it’s both, it’s absolutely both, amazing and terrible all at once.

Just thinking about it makes him feel like a huge chasm is opening up in front of his feet; his body screams danger, and all he wants to do is get away from it.

And yet a part of him feels like he was born to jump.

Kurt ends the recording and stares at his phone in his lap, not really seeing it. He doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about Blaine. He needs to stop. This is ridiculous. They’re _friends_ , not anything else, not anymore -

“Oh, I think she’s got him now,” Adam murmurs. Leaning in, he puts his hand on Kurt’s arm. “Look.”

Snapping back to the present, Kurt jerks his head up and watches the duel end. Adam is right; she does wipe the floor with him. And he leaves his hand on Kurt’s arm as she does it, the weight keeping Kurt’s thoughts safely grounded where they belong.

Afterward, Kurt tidies up his trash and stands still as Adam reaches out to adjust the twist of his scarf over his shoulder, even though it was already just fine.

“Thanks for the carrots,” Adam says with a soft, intimate smile. He looks content, like Kurt gave him something much more meaningful than vegetables.

“And thank _you_ for arranging the entertainment,” Kurt replies, gesturing toward the emptying courtyard.

Adam laughs. “My pleasure. We’ll have to do it again.”

“As long as we aren’t the ones performing,” Kurt says, and it feels so good for his heart not to flutter at the promises and flirting. It feels so much more mature, so much better.

It’s so much _easier_.

“No, not us,” Adam replies.

“No,” Kurt says with a smile.

He waves and heads off to class, smoothing his scarf on the way.

When he gets there he only sends the clip to Santana.

***

“Your song today was amazing,” Tina tells Blaine as they sit down across from each other at a little table in the Lima Bean. “You really put your heart into it.”

Blaine’s heart still feels shredded from singing that Phil Collins song. So many emotions are raw in his chest, and he has to fight to keep them from tumbling out where they aren’t wanted. He clears his throat and says, “Thank you.”

“But you’re going to have to work harder if you don’t want Sam to know about your crush.” She raises her eyebrows and looks at him pointedly.

“It was about Kurt,” Blaine starts, because the lyrics are perfect for his feelings about Kurt even if he’d been thinking about a lot more when he was singing. He’d been thinking about his whole life, about nobody who understands him taking his hand when he’s reaching out, not Kurt who won’t love him, not Sam who _can’t_. No matter how strongly Blaine feels, Sam just _can’t_.

Tina cuts him off by laughing at him.

“Blaine,” she says. “I know you’re in love with Kurt, I was _at_ the wedding, and I saw your face as well as your hickeys, ew, but I’m also not stupid. And you’ve already told me about your crush on Sam.”

Blaine sighs and links his hand in his lap. “I was really obvious, huh?” It makes him feel a little sick and maybe a touch relieved, because as awful for their friendship as it would be for Sam to know it’s also nearly impossible for Blaine to have to keep trying to hold his feelings inside when all he wants is for someone to love him back, as much as he knows it’s not going to happen.

Tina shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Not _really_ obvious,” she says, and he knows with a sinking heart that she’s lying out of kindness. “But I’m your friend. I know you. And you kept looking at Sam with those big, beautiful eyes of yours, which is kind of a dead giveaway.”

“It’s so stupid of me,” Blaine says. “I know he’s straight. And he’s with Brittany. I don’t think anything’s going to _happen_ between us. He’s my _friend_. I want it to stay that way.”

“I know,” Tina tells him. She tips her head and offers him a smile. “But he’s kind of too cute to ignore, huh?”

Blaine has to laugh, even if there’s not a lot of humor in it. “ _Yes_. And I’m... I guess I’m not good at holding back when I have feelings for someone.”

“Like Sam,” she says. “Or Kurt.”

Blaine nods. “Yeah.” He can feel it all bubbling up in his chest if he pays enough attention, all of the things he wants that he can’t have, all of the goals he can’t quite reach, all of the dreams he so badly wants to become reality. From his family to his crushes, he’s always wanted so much when it comes to other people. He tries to tamp it down and focus on more positive things. “On the bright side,” he says, picking up his coffee, “I haven’t chased Sam around a store singing to him and getting him fired, so I’m getting better at it.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Tina says with a giggle.

When Blaine thinks of Jeremiah, all he remembers is a kind listener and a good head of hair; he might still be a sucker for people who seem to like him, but he’s learned so much since then about love, about what it means to have someone who understands him, challenges him, and supports him, about what it means to be himself, about what it means to be liked for who he is, about what it means to find people who get different parts of him.

With the distance of time, he doesn’t know now what on earth he saw in Jeremiah. Blaine’s had so much more. His dreams are so different. Tina gives him more than Jeremiah ever could. Sam does. Kurt did, does even now.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says. “I guess I wasn’t.”

***

“I can’t believe Amber’s wearing that dress,” Kurt says, grabbing another handful of popcorn from the bowl. His eyes are locked on the television, and the apartment is otherwise quiet. “I know blondes look good in red, but a body stocking isn’t fashion, no matter the color.” He makes a little noise. “Fine, if it were McQueen it would be fashion, but it isn’t McQueen. It’s McSkankyTrailerTrash. _And_ this is Tasha’s baby’s _christening_.”

Kurt takes a sip of his tea and leans back on the couch, getting comfortable. “It doesn’t matter that Tasha wore white to Amber’s wedding last month; there are _children_ at this christening. You have to pick your timing for taking revenge. Much like I am waiting until Rachel and Santana aren’t worrying anymore before I get them back for waking me up and finding you.”

He pats Bruce on his plump, cushioned chest and snuggles in against him some more. It’s not quite right. With a vaguely disgruntled sound, he rearranges Bruce’s arm over his shoulder until it fits just so. It would be nice if Bruce could actually grip him or stroke his arm, he misses that, but it would probably be pretty creepy to have a pillow that moved. Or very creepy, now that he thinks of it.

Besides, it would be distracting, and the upcoming catfight is bound to be an amazing one. It’s better that Bruce is as he is and won’t interrupt.

Kurt gives Bruce another pat and mutes the television as it cuts to a commercial. He curls his chilly toes inside his socks and tucks them up onto the couch under the throw. “If only you had body heat you’d be the perfect boyfriend,” he tells Bruce with a yawn. “Or could get up and get me another cup of tea.”

Bruce just holds him, cozy and comforting, and doesn’t offer any commentary. That’s kind of nice, too. There’s no one to argue with him, no one to say things that make his heart flutter and pound or break into a thousand jagged pieces all over a moonlit path. There isn’t even the tension of trying to keep Adam happy without having to say things he doesn’t feel yet. Kurt can just _be_ here with Bruce.

Still...

Kurt breathes out and closes his eyes, bone tired after a long week. He presses his cheek against Bruce’s body, without a steady heartbeat or breath beneath his ear to soothe him, without a heart at all to love him.

“It might be nice if you had a head you could rest on my shoulder sometimes, too.” And an arm to wrap around his waist, a mouth to press against his jaw, soft hair to brush against his cheek.

And then he sighs and reminds himself he doesn’t really need any of that. He’s doing just fine. He has his friends, he has Adam, and he has Bruce’s uncomplicated embrace. That’s enough.

***

Sam drops heavily into the chair next to Blaine’s in the choir room. “Help me, Obi-Blaine Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” He sounds _nothing_ like Princess Leia.

Blaine shuts off his phone, squints at him, and says, “Was that your Sean Connery impression?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies, back in his normal voice. “I’m still working on my Carrie Fisher. I think I need a costume to make it work. Maybe just the hair braid things.” He gestures at his ears. “But that’s kind of cheating for an impression. I should be able to do it without any props.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out if you try,” Blaine tells him as supportively as he can, though no matter how much he loves Sam’s impressions even he’s not sure Sam’s up to that one. There aren’t really any distinguishing features of her voice.

“Thanks, dude. Anyway, I need your help. Not about Carrie Fisher. Or hair braiding. About something else.”

Blaine’s heart skitters at the idea of Sam needing him, but he doesn’t let it show. “Sure. With what? Anything you need, you know that.” Okay, maybe it shows a little, but it’s okay, because Sam knows about his feelings and is totally cool about them. The foolishness of his heart hasn’t hurt anything between them. It’s incredible. He’d never thought Sam would want him; he was only worried he’d lose what he already had.

Sam just smiles at him, easy as anything, and says, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“I have Cheerios practice until three, but I’m free after that.” Blaine had planned to sit in his room and do homework, but spending time with Sam would be way more fun than sitting there in his silent house surrounded by bittersweet memories and pictures of Kurt that are as untouchable and distant as he is.

Besides, Sam’s mellow support would be a nice counterpoint to whatever snide remarks Sue will undoubtedly fling at him today; maybe they can talk about putting the next phase of their plan to take her down into place. He hates standing there being powerless and having to take it, even though that’s how he’s infiltrating the team. It brings up a lot of memories. Hanging out with Sam will take them away.

“Artie and Ryder just totally besmirched my game-playing honor out in the hallway, and I need you to come over this afternoon and be my Halo partner so we can kick their asses.” Sam lifts his mobile eyebrows and gives Blaine a hopeful look. “Please?” He holds out his fist between them.

Blaine’s heart flutters again, so happy to have a friend like Sam in his life. If Sam can’t be more - and Blaine knows he can’t, he’s never thought he actually could - at least Sam’s just the same friend he’s always been, generous and kind, even though he knows about Blaine’s crush. Apparently he’s known all year, and he’s been just the same.

There’s no rejection, no judgement, no pulling away or shutting him out.

There’s nothing at all that’s difficult or painful about Sam.

Blaine reaches out and bumps his fist against Sam’s, a smile leaping to his lips when Sam beams at him. “Let’s do it.”

“Awesome!” Sam says, leaning back happily in his chair. “Thank you. You’re the best, Blaine.”

“Thanks,” Blaine replies happily, his heart swelling instead of bleeding in his chest.

So they’re just friends. They’re _great_ friends. They’re bros, apparently. They get each other. They support each other. They have fun. After making such terrible mistakes with Kurt, Blaine hadn’t thought he’d be lucky enough to find anyone in his life who understood him nearly as well.

Honestly, that Blaine can’t have more doesn’t really hurt at all.

Sam smiles over at him, his eyes so warm and kind, so free of judgment or his own pain, and when Blaine smiles back he thinks with a flood of welcome relief that it’s so nice for once not to hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I am, as ever, spoiler-free! Please don't tell me anything about what's ahead in the show!


End file.
